


Don't Be Forgotten

by NixieDrakos



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-30 02:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16755727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NixieDrakos/pseuds/NixieDrakos
Summary: When walking the Land of the Dead after failing to cross over, Hector finds a distraught spirit. Hoping to comfort her, Hector discovers that the dead can die again.





	Don't Be Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everybody!  
> This is my first posting here on AO3. This story takes place sometime during the early years of Hector being in the Land of the Dead and learning how things work around there. There will be a minor oc, so you have been warned.
> 
> To new and old readers, welcome to 'Don't Be Forgotten'! 
> 
> Spanish words:
> 
> Amiga: female version of friend (male or multiple would be amigo or amigos)  
> Chamaca: female version of chamaco, meaning kid or child  
> Familia: Family  
> Gracias: thank you  
> Ofrenda: a collection of objects placed on a ritual altar during the annual and traditionally Mexican Día de los Muertos celebration

Hector is making his way back to the rundown shanty town where he and the rest of the forgotten dead live together. His mood especially sour and gloomy as he trudged back from yet another failed attempt at crossing over. Why didn’t his family put his photo up on the ofrenda? Did they even know he was dead? Probably not.

“Ah well, there is always next year.” He tries to reason with himself.

Dia de los Muerto had come and gone and yet, he wasn’t able to go visit them. Maybe his family didn’t know he was dead so they didn’t put his photo up. After all, it had only been a few months since he died of food poisoning. Still, that didn’t stop the feeling of loneliness and guilt he felt. He had promised his sweet little girl that he was going to come back to her. To her and to her mother. Did they think he was still making music, living his dream? Were they worried where he was or if he was okay? Did they think he abandoned them? That last thought sent a sharp pain through his ribs and the empty area where his heart would have been if he was still alive.

Oh, how he desperately wanted a way to see his family again. He wanted, no, he needed to tell them somehow that he didn’t want to leave them. He didn’t want to make them worry and wonder if and when he was coming home. He didn’t want his girls to think that he had just abandoned them for his music. If he could, he would give up anything to see his family again. All he needed was for them to put up his photo on the ofrenda and he could cross over and at least see them! He would try again next year. Surely by then his family will have to come to the conclusion that something terrible had happened and put up his photo. He was sure of it!

As he tries to boost his own spirits, he’s startled out of his thoughts as he hears the tell tale of muffled sniffles down a dim alleyway just before the shanty town. Curious, he wanders over to the sound.

“Oi, anybody there?” He asks softly and he gets closer to the the sound. “Hey, chamaca, are you alright?” Stepping into the alley and looking around, he finds a small skeleton curled up against the wall with her head buried into her knees and arms.

Hector walks over and crouches next to her, gently placing her hand on the child’s tiny shoulder. The child whips her head up to show pretty brown eyes with tears streaming down her cheekbones. Her clothes are torn and in rags with no shoes. Her hair is long and straggly in a matted mess. Even her bones are faded and her markings dull, lacking all color.

“Oh, mija, what’s wrong? Why do you cry?” Hector grows concerned as the girl looks at him with a lost expression.

The girl doesn’t reply, just flings her arms around him and latches on, to cry into his slightly ripped jacket and chest. He blinks a few times but gives her a reassuring hug. After a moment, he pulls away and gently puts the girl at arms length to get her attention.

“What’s wrong, chamaca?” He asks again.

“I-I’m scared! I don’t want to be forgotten by mi familia! I don’t want to end up like Maria, or Juan, or Ricky, or-or Anna!” The girl starts rattling off names of people Hector never heard of before. “I don’t want to disappear!” Her wail is heart wrenching.

Hector doesn’t understand exactly what the younger spirit is saying but knows that ‘disappearing’ couldn’t be good. He picks up the younger -or perhaps she is older than him- spirit and pulls her into his arms as he walks out of the alley and towards the pier that leads to the shanty town. He walks down a smaller, more worn path from the pier that leads away from the shanty town. The spirit in his arms hiccups and sniffles as she lets Hector carry her. She doesn’t know where he is taking her but she doesn’t mind. She can feel it in her bones that she wasn’t going to be around much longer. She was being forgotten and there isn’t anything she could do about it. It isn’t like she had any living relatives that could tells others about her. She didn’t have friends either.

Hector sits down on an old, rickety portion of the pier. Boards are missing and water ripples over the edges where one side sinks gently into the water. It’s dark out, with fireflies and other night critters ambling about. He always liked this place. It’s quiet and he could always be alone here to think. It’s a place he likes visiting when he reflects on his life and all of the decisions he had made before he died. No one else would bother them there.

“Did you know that even the dead can still die?” The small girl that had been so quiet asks in a whisper as she looks blankly at the water before them. Hector notices for the first time that her eyes hold much wisdom and a look that tells him she’s been around a lot longer than he has. 

Hector gives the girl a curious look as he looks down at her, “What do you mean?”

“When people who knew you in life forget about you, you begin to fade here.” As if on cue, the girl shutters with a whimper as her body glows orange.

“Chamaca!?” Hector calls to her with worry.

The girl ignores his call, her mind being elsewhere. “When the last person who knew you in life forgets or dies before they pass on your stories, then you die what’s called a ‘final death’.” Tears pool in her eyes again as she continues on. “It’s scary because nobody knows what happens after you disappear from here. I-I’m so scarred! I don’t want to be alone!” No longer able to hold it in she cries again, ignoring the pain as her body quivers and glows once again.

“What’s your name, huh?” Hector asks, holding the girl tight.

Hector doesn’t know how to comfort the girl. How does one do that when faced with a dying spirit? He didn’t even know that spirits could die again in the afterlife. So, he holds her tight, doing the best he could to maker the girl’s final moments as comfortable as possible. 

“I-it’s Isabella,” the girl mumbles between her sobs and hiccups.

“Don’t worry, you aren’t alone, Isabella.” Hector promises the girl.

The girl looks up from her lap with wide, innocent eyes staring back up to caring brown ones. She closes her eyes and smiles in relief and happiness.

“Gracias, I’m not scared now. Don’t ever let yourself be forgotten.”

As the girl smiles, her body glows a brilliant orange and slowly disappears, being carried off by the wind. Hector removes his straw hat and and bows his head in respect for the lost spirit.

“I won’t chamaca.”  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hector made a promise that night that he would remember for years to come. And he just knows that the young spirit he met all those years ago would be proud to now that he was able to keep his promise.

Now in fresh clothes and all cleaned up, Hector returns to the spot he had gone to so long ago. He crouches down and tosses orange flower petals into the water with a single floating candle. Behind him are his two favorite girls, Imelda and his sweet Coco.

“Isabella, mi amiga, I did it. I wasn’t forgotten.”


End file.
